Common Ground
by mythweaver1
Summary: FFIV. Prequel. Before Eblan ever knew of any conspiracy concerning the Tower. Before its prince went off to war-before there even was a prince as we know him-there were two people whose partnership would shape the kingdom's future. Irreparably. NPC's
1. Chapter 1

Common Ground

The Story of Nyah and Takeshi

It was a cold winter's day—the day the strange girl appeared in our village. The circumstances, the coincidence; and my uncle had just boasted of the security of Talon's borders. To have a girl of barely seventeen years appear as if out of thin air, to magically be in one place and then in another—the craft of a mage but the talent of one of our own? It was only by the providence of her forthright words and her appeal to logic that she was not immediately put to the sword. She was not a stranger to discount so easily.

She hailed from Mysidia, a land I had heard of in stories. It was a mysterious place, by all accounts. An ancient land steeped in culture and memory and magic, and a place so very different from our own. But her people were not bound to the same secrecy as ours, nor the same restraint. Her speech was free and opinionated, her words sharp, and her tone indicated that she would not tolerate disrespect.

Who was this girl? My uncle, at once outraged and intrigued by her promise of new information and knowledge, had her imprisoned after a lengthy interrogation. How had she snuck past the guards, all seasoned shinobi of much renown? How could she dare go toe to toe with a king? And who was she to violate the security of Talon's grounds, a place that no one outside of the clan was allowed to see?

I observed her in her bower, at how she watched the world around her—a world she couldn't possibly comprehend—continue like the well-practiced dance that it was. Everyone in their routine, everyone with their purpose, and she the animal in her cage. I never saw her shed a tear—strange for a woman who had not been raised to resist hardship. She had a spine of steel, and her defiance was clear.

What had she run from to end up here?

Days became weeks.

The winter was harsh and the winds biting, and despite all of this, she remained in her hovel—a prisoner whose fate had not yet been decided. I could not resist the temptation to know—to ask.

I approached her cage. She was shivering when I knelt beside the bars. Her hands were purple and her skin dry, but still she defiantly sat upright, covering her head with the heavy robe she'd been given.

"Why do you watch me?" she whispered, each syllable shaking.

"Why don't you ask for mercy?" I asked instead. Surely, my uncle was keeping this woman in the cold to break her pride, but not to kill her.

"I would not ask for mercy, I would ask for respect," she replied, and her blue eyes were startling and fierce.

"Who are you?" I tried again.

She offered me a hesitant smile. "Aren't you a keeper of secrets yourself? You should know better than to ask me that."

I wasn't sure why, but I found that I liked this woman. "My name is Takeshi," I told her, hoping that honesty would make her more pliant.

"Takeshi," she repeated, testing it out. "Who are you, the prince?"

"No," I answered, lowing my gaze. "I am of the same family as the king, yes, but of lesser importance. The throne will never be mine."

"So you took the risk in speaking to me. And have I satisfied your curiosity?"

"My curiosity would be more satisfied if I knew your name."

She stared at me for several long moments, as if torn between the desire to tell the truth or a lie. "My name is Nyah," she finally revealed, and then added with the bite of sarcasm, "And perhaps you should inform your king that guests often tell more stories when they are given suitable accommodations."

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Brilliantly sneaky woman. She knew exactly which words to say and to which people and she had the king and his aides eating out of her hand. She had found a way to trade one captivity for another. No longer was she kept in her pen in the yard—she had been allowed a room, windowless and guarded, granted, but she had a pallet to sleep on. She had become a "guest" to the king of Eblan, his own personal story teller.

I was given the evening to guard her room. The wooden floors were polished and cold under my sandaled feet, but I was used to chilly evenings. The mountains of the north were secluded in the winters—buried under snow. The evening was late, but not too late, and I knew she wouldn't be asleep. I could hear her breathing through the door.

"I've heard that you've been promising the king your services," I said just loud enough for her to overhear.

"I wondered if it was you," she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

"What services were those, I wonder?"

She hesitated. "I am well educated. I was schooled in languages, politics, and figures—and magic."

"The shinobi have no use for your knowledge of magic," I told her. "We have no need for it."

"So I've heard."

"You've heard?" I asked. "That's a curious thing on its own. Where did you hear such a thing?"

"When a kingdom that lives in the shadows makes covert requests for white mages, a person can make their own conclusions," she replied a little wryly. "Why would you need white mages, if you had no one with those particular skills—or no one capable of them?"

_Well informed. _

_ "_Who _were_ you?" I insisted, discovering by the minute that she was a person of more importance than I had realized.

She laughed, and it was almost as cold as the floor we were both sitting on.

"Would you believe me if I told you?" she asked lightly.

"That depends. You're quite the story teller. How can I be sure you aren't lying?"

There was a moment of silence through the door. "I was a student of our Elder. One of his most promising students," she mused. "Until they found out I was no longer fit for their order. An _exception."_

_ "_An exception?" I repeated.

"Someone with unorthodox magic. Someone who could do more than they should."

"You were born with magic," I said. It was an outstanding notion. The only people I'd ever heard of who were born to magic lived within our kingdom. The shinobi came from ancient roots, and ancient stigmas. We had gone to great lengths to hide what we were from the magic community of the world. For someone else to be born with magic in another corner of the world? That was rare—and dangerous.

"Strange how you can live for years never knowing, until the day when you do," she said sadly.

"What did you do?"

Again, she hesitated. "I caused a gale—sheared the trees all along the holy avenue," She laughed. "Never saw such a look of fury on the Elder's face. Nothing went quite right after that. Just one thing after another."

"How did you get here?" I wanted to know.

"On a boat."

"There are no boats that come from Mysidia to Eblan," I replied.

"There are many boats near Agart, and some of those go as far as Eblan's waters. Mages have their own tricks that even your people could take a few notes from."

_And cocky. _

"Why did you seek us out?"

"What better way to get the attention of your king than to appear in his own village?" she inquired.

"For what purpose?"

"Asylum."

I sighed, cradling my head in my hands. "You chose a dangerous kingdom to seek asylum."

"Danger wards off the curious. I can't go back."

"You can't stay."

"Your king hasn't made up his mind. Why have you?"

It was my turn to pause. "What would you do here? What kind of life could you possibly have? Have you ever considered that you might never see more than those four walls?"

"It's probably better than what I would have had in Mysidia," she reflected. "I'll take my chances. I have nothing else to lose."

"Your life," I said, tiredly. "Your life may have been spared up until now but that could change at a moment's notice."

"Then at least it was by my own choice to come here, and not because I allowed myself to be locked away and deemed insane."

"How can a girl your age be so without fear?" I asked, intrigued at her resoluteness.

"You'd be surprised."

"Perhaps I should start listening to the tales you tell the king," I replied.

"Perhaps, and then maybe you'd get your answers," she answered.

I smiled—at this game the two of us were playing. "I look forward to it," I told her, and to be honest, I truly was.

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A/N: I'm not really sure how much I want to reveal at this point. But I'm sure you guys can start to put together some pieces as to who these two individuals are ;)

But just in case…this is VERY VERY PRE-GAME. Backstory—holla!

A few things, though…the setting is most definitely Eblan. Talon is a clan. I am incorporating ninja clans into the fabric of the FFIV 'verse. Eblan is not really a vacation destination. And, there are more villages and towns in the kingdom than just the castle itself. I imagine it to be very much like feudal Japan…with a twist, obviously. This is Final Fantasy. And fanfic, for goodness sake ;)

Also…I have NO IDEA why this story bit me so hard…I was working on a different story and all of a sudden—BAM. Had to stop everything I was doing and write this one instead. There were will be future installments… ;)

And now I have a whole new little series to frustrate you with!

Thanks for reading! Until next update (and yes, I'll get GWnN and WoTC in order soon)!

~Myth

Oh. And? This IS part of a prequel to WoTC…which won't become important or relevant until I start writing POST-GAME fic, but…I'm all about teasers :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

And the story of Edge's parents continues ;)

It's amazing how much better I function with a full night's sleep…makes the writing process so much more bearable, lol.

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Asylum

Obtaining an audience with the king was difficult; but I managed, on occasion, to be present in the room while he was having his discussions with Nyah. Each afternoon as I watched the proceedings, I would see her kneeling on the floor with her hands in her lap—in the borrowed robes dyed a rich hue of blue tucked and folded around her slight form. Each day the king would inquire about politics, poetry, or language and they would engage in a certain amount of wordplay. My command of the common tongue, the tongue of politics, was good, but even I couldn't keep up to their level of sophistication. I hadn't seen the king smile in many years the way he did when he spoke to her—clearly something in her answers was pleasing to him.

One day, as I accompanied her from the king's study to her room, we took a detour into one of the compound's gardens. Once again, I couldn't help but inquire as to her motivations. It had been over a month now that she had been with us, but the king still had not decided her fate and her persistence had yet to falter.

When we were both alone, I watched her take stock of her surroundings as one gazes at a piece of art. She wasn't facing me, but I could imagine the small smile on her lips.

"You want something other than asylum," I ventured, taking a few slow steps toward her. "Something Mysidia couldn't offer you."

She crossed her arms, as if doing so would protect her from my words. "Shinobi have a magic different from that of mages," she said simply. "Magic that isn't understood by scholars on the subject. Magic like mine."

"And?"

She turned to look at me, studying me, and whatever smile might have been on her lips had now faded to a thin line of contemplation. "I don't want to live in fear of my magic," she said. "I want to learn how to use it, as you do."

"This is what you've been asking of the king?" I asked incredulously, feeling my brows rise. "You want to be trained as one of us? An outsider? It's absurd."

"Why is it that only those born here have the privilege of understanding this sort of magic? This confounding, unpredictable, intimate magic?" she asked, frowning.

"Intimate?" I asked, uncertain of her meaning. I had never seen my magic as anything but a tool, not an emotional bond.

Her gaze flicked away, staring at the walls around us as if this place and the entire world were her prison. "I didn't ask for this!" she cried, throwing up her hands. "I didn't ask to wake up one morning and find that none of my spells would do as I asked—that the slightest change in my thoughts could affect what I meant my spells to do. I couldn't even cast Fira without causing a firestorm beyond my control!"

"You did more than trim Mysidia's hedges, didn't you?" I asked, and I noticed her eyes meet mine again with a touch of dismay.

She hugged herself more tightly with her arms than before. "I—I almost killed a man," she forced out, and it was the first time I'd ever heard her voice falter.

"I had intended to cast a simple spell—thunder," she went on, as if telling the story to herself for the first time as well as myself. "It was an exercise in precision and control—and I couldn't concentrate. I tried again and again to strike a single target, to tailor my words to that specific task, but nothing I said made a difference. My tutor was growing increasingly frustrated with my lack of success, a weasel of a man, really. I imagined him being shocked out of his chair; that dour expression on his face wiped clear off. I hadn't meant to _shock _him literally, but my words and my thoughts were in two different directions and my magic took the shape of them both. Burnt his skin black, stopped his heart…" she swallowed hard and then carried on. "They blamed me for willfully harming him. Insubordination. A hateful act."

"What was your punishment?" I wanted to know.

"A month of confinement, a personal apology, and an explanation. But I had no explanation. I had never meant to harm him."

"And then what?" I ventured. "One thing after another?"

She sighed and started to pace in small agitated circles. "Spells that were only supposed to last minutes, lasted weeks. I lost my temper, and a wind kicked up a dust storm in the courtyard," she explained. "People would vanish unexpectedly and find themselves in the strangest of places—atop the tower of prayer, or halfway along the Serpent's Road."

"And then what?"

"I couldn't use any magic," she said sadly. "None of it. None of the spells I had learned throughout my childhood, none of the incantations. It's why none of your people cast a mage's magic, isn't it? The unpredictability and danger? That tang of wrongness to something that should have order?" she stopped in her pacing long enough to look at me pleadingly. "How can you stand it? That voice in your head whispering to you?" she asked.

"A voice? I hear no voice," I replied.

Her eyes bore deeper into mine; blue and bright and frightening. "If not a voice, then that deep and irresistible urge to summon power to your fingertips from within, to bend and shape things to your will."

At this, I felt I understood her. The magic in our blood was like a second hunger—the need to be used and fed and unleashed. It was a gift—and a curse for those whose magic was stronger than their restraint. We learned meditations at an early age, ascribing each magical inclination to an emotion and a memory, anchoring them. We did not use words, no, but we had found other ways over the centuries to keep our unwieldy magic in check. Recall the memory of a tree struck by lightning in a storm, at the power and terror of it, and the memory could unleash magic as powerful as the vision. Calm your thoughts and dwell on a moment of contentedness and peace, and you could stabilize magic into something malleable and sustainable. It took many years to master, but I had never known what would happen when a magic-born person tried to channel magic from within and without. From Nyah's description it seemed the two couldn't co-exist in any fashion without becoming doubly unpredictable. Magic beseeched from crystals and magic from within were two different beasts.

"You learn to live with it," I told her. "Or you go mad."

She walked close to me all of a sudden, and her regard startled me. Her fingers gripped my arm, making contact with bare skin just above my glove, and I found my throat constricting. I had never had the chance to spend this much time with her before, or to admire the exotic features she boasted. Her dark hair falling in cascades past her shoulders, her high cheekbones, and eyes as blue as the sea…

"Please," she begged. "You've taken about as much interest in me as the king—surely you could—"

I slipped my arm out of her grip, and she took a step back, her brows pinched together.

"To tell you would be treason," I told her, firmly, truthfully. No outsider had ever learned the secrets of our people, and I wouldn't be the first to break that law.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Then I shall go mad," she said, and took a few angry steps past me. "Please take me back to my room."

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Thanks for reading! I'm curious to see what people are thinking of this, honestly. It's kind of a new direction!

Until next update,

~Myth


	3. Chapter 3

Maniacal laugh—maniacal laugh ;)

Earning Trust

"I've agreed to let her stay," the king confided in me and my cousin late one evening. We were sitting at the table in the king's quarters with a cup of strong tea in each of our hands. The lamps had dimmed to a steady low gleam, and the room held more shadows than light—fitting for the news we had just received.

My cousin was older than I, already in his mid-thirties, and a proud man. He was also a traditional man, and I saw the characteristic pursing of his lips the moment my uncle had said what he wanted to say.

"Is that truly wise?" he asked, and then had enough decency to bow his head once his father's gaze fixed upon him.

"I have interrogated this woman personally for three months. Are you so eager to call me senile, that you would question my judgment in this matter?"

My cousin bent his head lower to the table, but his jaw was set. "No, sir, it was not my intention."

We were a family to the clan first, to the crown, second, and we took pains to make sure we regarded the king the same way when we were in the north—out of the public eye. That wasn't to say he held any less power, but this was the chain of military command, and whatever he said was law.

The fury in the king's dark eyes lessened, and he took a long sip from his cup. "The spring is coming. My time in the north is almost at an end, and it is time the kunoichi in the capital learned more than tea ceremony. This woman is a scholar—and it has been many years since anyone with such knowledge of the world has come into our domain."

"She used deception to enter our boundaries," my cousin protested. "What if she uses deception to find a way out—to share what she learns here with the other nations?"

"If she leaves with any knowledge of our people, she will be marked for death, and she will be warned accordingly," the king said evenly.

I looked from my uncle to my cousin, feeling the tension in the room. All of this trouble for one woman?

"Takeshi, you've been very quiet this evening," my uncle observed. "Do you have similar doubts as my son?"

I nearly choked on my tea, and looked at my uncle with wide eyes.

"Don't get him involved in this, father," my cousin jibed. "He has the look of a spooked cat."

I had to admit, for all of my cousin's personal flaws, he had a knack for keeping the king's attention fixed on himself. I silently thanked him and set down my cup.

But the king would not be gainsaid. "If my own family cannot agree with my decision, how am I to expect the other clans to accept this arrangement?"

"You would take her to the capital?" I asked. "Has she asked for anything in return?"

I saw a small smile tug at my uncle's lips. "I knew I taught you strategy for a reason," he told me with a hint of esteem that I knew rankled my cousin's pride. "She has asked to be shown our meditations."

"_What?_" my cousin blurted out, to his father's raised hand.

"As I understand it, she is a long-lost daughter of our kind. A woman born to gifts. I am not seeking to make her a part of any of our clans, no—but to teach her how to control her gifts in exchange for the knowledge she has? I see little harm in that."

"She's an outsider," my cousin spat out the word as if it were burning a hole in his mouth. "She's no better than a stray."

"This is my decision, and you will abide by it," the king said firmly, setting his cup on the table as a gesture of finality. "By the end of the month, she will make the journey south to the capital."

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I spoke to Nyah the following day. She had already been informed by the king's second, of course, but I wanted to be able to tell her myself. She was sitting on the pallet in her room, eyes closed, but she looked up when I entered.

"You've heard," she said matter-of-factly.

"You're being taken to the capital," I confirmed, trying to hide my annoyance that she always presumed to know exactly what I was thinking. "You must be pleased. You're finally getting what you wanted."

She smiled hesitantly, slowly un-crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees. "Yes," she admitted. "I am."

I frowned, and it drew her concern. "What is it?" she asked, looking at me sideways.

"Just because you're being allowed to leave this village—don't think your troubles are over."

"Why would I possibly think that?"

"You've spent three months beseeching the king to grant you asylum and now you've succeeded. Don't become overconfident," I warned.

"I have no confidence beyond the fact that the sun will rise in the morning," she said. "I never expected my life to be easy once I'd left my homeland, and I don't trust to hope—only persistence."

I stared at her. This was not the rhetoric I had expected from a mage who believed in destiny and fate. "Was the real reason you left your people your inability to accept their doctrines?" I asked.

She laughed softly, and had a helpless look on her face when her eyes met mine. "You know nothing about my people and nothing about their beliefs. Don't be so quick to pass judgment."

"When you arrive in the south," I said, and then paused. "Be careful."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied, and disgusted by her apparent lack of concern, I left the room. She was going to get herself killed—I was sure of it.

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The month's end came and went as surely as the spring thaw. The king and his retainers, as well as several newly trained and several seasoned shinobi, prepared to leave Talon for the capital by the southern sea. I watched them leave with three other men at my side. We would remain to continue the spring training—there would be ten under my command this year.

Nyah was lifted onto a shadowmere, called such because of its coal black coat—a favorite among our people—and joined the king's men on the road. I wished I could accompany them, to learn more about the mysterious girl, and to keep her out of trouble. She had already raised more than a few brows in the shelter of the village during the four months she'd been here. She was bound to raise more once she was among the more varied company of the capital.

She turned in the saddle and her blue eyes met mine. She hadn't realized that I wouldn't be joining them on this journey, and her regard was cool, concerned even. It was possible that our paths would not cross again for some time and all I could do was gaze back at her. The party pulled away, and Nyah's attention was drawn with it. Her long dark hair swayed across her back as the meres plodded along the marshy ground. She would be alone, a stranger in a strange land once more, and there was nothing I could do for her. Perhaps now she would heed my earlier warning and value caution over courage. For her sake, I hoped she would.

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A/N:

These two have been playing games with my head for the past month or so…I just can't stop writing them!

Quick note on the shadowmeres…I really loved the inclusion of a horse-like beast in FFXII and wanted to include that back into IV. Not gonna lie, chocobos just…I'm not really a fan. The image of a knight riding into battle on big bird just doesn't do it for me, lol. ANYWAY. There wasn't an actual shadowmere in XII, but there was a shadowmare. I changed the spelling to the old English version of mare. And I'm going with the notion that these aren't "monsters" but they are more along the lines of…pegasuses…pegasi?/unicorns. They have some extraordinary qualities not normal to "normal" horses, but I haven't delved into that…and I probably won't.

Thanks to those of you reading this, and for the reviews! Really appreciate it!

~Myth


	4. Chapter 4

Quick Note:

_Now _I remember why I hit writers block with this back in February!

Oh. Dear.

I had originally written this chapter in February...and in June, my hard drive with the latest version of it crashed, and I lost all of my data. This was infuriating, not only because I had written a substantial portion of the chapter already, but also because it was a demoralizing blow. All of that work-gone. There were five months between the last chapter and this, and...it took me a while to remember where I'd left off.

p.s. if I screw up any of the terminology, someone please let me know. And if there are typos or other such errors...I may have been...well I may have consumed an adult beverage while editing this...lol

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Reunions

Spring began its forward march to summer, almost as if the two seasons were two notes wavering in strident discord, trying to find their harmony.

I had spent the better part of spring wielding a shinai and spending my nights on the muddy ground, sharing in the misery of those whom I had asked to suffer. I was bruised and battered, but confident that those who served beneath me had more impressive welts to boast. My subordinates and I had trained relentlessly, and among our clansmen, two dozen young men and a small handful of women had begun their training this year, in addition to those already in our ranks. Talon had always been strong, had always been prepared beyond question, and its shinobi were fierce warriors of whom legends were written.

For the pride of our clan, I would not allow a single one of my kohai to greet their Trials with anything less than tempered skill. But with the spring's ending, so too, did my time in the north. My relief was soon to arrive, to carry on the instruction of the first and second years, and free me to my duties at the king's side in the south.

As I kneeled before the shrine in the center of our village, beseeching benevolence and safe travels, I found my thoughts returning to the woman who had flown from my mind in the months we'd been apart. I had heard very little from the south, and I had not decided if this was a favorable sign. Had Nyah survived the wiles of court, or had she made enemies of the nobles and the shinobi who served them? I frowned, remembering her bull-headedness and blind determination; but had enough presence of mind to clap my hands and bow my head before leaving the shrine.

It would take several days to reach the capital, even with the thawed mountain passages, and I had messages to convey to the ones who would carry on my work during my absence. There was much to be done, and little time in which to do it. Nonetheless, through the late meetings, and even into my meditations, I found her bewitching eyes haunting me. I lay awake at night, imagining her face.

And when I took to the road, I asked questions when I could to passersby. How had the season fared for the capital? Was there any word of a peculiar woman tucked within the king's court?

My questions were for naught, and so my journey continued with the same nagging doubts. Was she even still alive?

The capital finally rose up around our traveling party-narrow streets hedged in by stone foundations. Chickens and other fowl ran in the streets, chasing crickets and loose grain, while goats and small herd animals chewed at feed shoved into troughs in small courtyards.

As we turned onto the tree-lined avenue that divided the city, the sun filtered through leaves and blossoms, leaving the gravel road speckled with evening light. The sakura trees were in bloom, their fleeting beauty a poignant reminder of the fragility of our own lives. The life expectancies of shinobi were never long. I had already out-lived my own odds, in my mid-twenties, and still hale enough to wield a sword. Within a few days, the flower petals would be scattered by the wind, not to be seen again until the following spring.

We climbed the castle's bailey and left our mounts with servants.

My men strode beside me into the main hall, and had barely crossed the vestibule, when a familiar leering pair of eyes caught mine.

For all her fourteen winters, my younger cousin was a formidable presence. We stood toe to toe, her chin raised defiantly toward mine. "Takeshi-san," she declared, not bothering with a customary greeting. "You must do something about her."

I smiled grimly. So Nyah had indeed stirred the waters of the capital-I had feared as much.

"She is your father's ward, Mizuki-chan," I informed my cousin, stepping around lest we became bottlenecked in the entrance.

But Mizuki was all seriousness, with dark eyes, and raven hair pinned up in artful swoops, and she was relentless in her pursuit. She followed at my elbow, glancing up at me and looking very put out.

"She doesn't follow any of our rules," she informed me, frowning. "Her deportment is insulting, and she is teaching the kunoichi-well, she's _teaching _them!" she complained. "She's a menace, Takeshi-san, and you're the only person who can convince father to send her away."

"You know as well as I, that your father's mind once made, is made for good. I'm of no help to you, Mizuki," I told her, annoyed, and then paused; noticing that I had left her several paces behind where she had stopped to cross her arms and glare.

"And here I'd hoped you were the sensible one!" she scolded, and there were a few raised brows and chuckles from my men.

I was in no mood to be upbraided by a child, and the look I gave her, all but told her so. She walked briskly away with a huff. I knew our talk was far from finished, but for now, at least, I knew she had gone on to find a more sympathetic ear.

My men and I left the vestibule behind as we entered the much larger main hall. Several people had arrived ahead of us, and were standing in a receiving line to formally greet the king and seek his welcome. Their voices boomed off the panel walls, and I walked forward to join them. I was not the only person to be called south for the spring. It was the time of meetings—the yearly council. Each province had sent its nobles, and each clan, its generals. There would be discussions and deep debates over the course of several weeks; each person in attendance struggling for their cut of the king's coffers.

I had brought two of my own captains with me, Taguchi and Shuichi; and I recognized Hiroshi of the Spider Clan and Nobu of the Dragon Clan standing among the crowd. We nodded to each other, though under normal circumstances, we were more likely to be holding a blade to one or the other's throat. The spring meetings were not only a time of negotiations, but of armistice between the clans. We were at the beck and call of our provincial lords, and were nothing more than guards, not mercenaries. For the time being, anyway.

Words were exchanged between many of us—some of the clans were more cordial than others—but the conversations never strayed too far from the superficial news of the day-to-day. We were the keepers of secrets, and no one wished to be blamed for revealing too much to their rivals. Everything, even conversation, was an art for us—a dance.

The receiving line was quickly shortened, and I was allowed entry to the throne room by announcement of the herald.

I bowed before my king and liege, exchanging the usual words, and had just turned to leave when he raised his hand to stop me.

"Takeshi-san," he said, and I turned to face my uncle. "Expect to be summoned later this evening. There are things we must discuss."

The look he had was guarded, masking the true purpose of his request. I fought my urge to inquire after the circumstances; and instead, bowed low out of deference, clearly dismissed. It was unusual for the king to declare arrangements during the formal greetings, as it was usually one of his aides who would send for me in private. This was entirely unexpected, and I left the throne room frowning; angling through the gathered crowd for the quieter corridors that stretched to the west wing of the castle.

I strode along the polished wooden floor that glistened in the light of the lamps set into the walls. I planned my turns carefully, as I was no stranger to the castle—its sanctuaries or its traps—and I had hoped to avoid those who would pull me aside for conversation. I had traveled too long and slept too little to endure the posturing of the other clansmen.

Instead, I trod the paths of the servants' quarters, nodding to those I recognized. From there, it was an upward climb along one of the lesser known staircases to the annex of the royal family. I slid open the door at its landing and entered the empty corridor where my own quarters resided. The lamps here were dimmed, as there weren't many occupants, and I walked quietly past several closed doors until I found my own.

I entered the quarters I usually kept when I stayed in the capital, and slid the door shut behind me, sighing.

A breeze blew across the room from an open balcony, bringing with it the scent of rain. Taking a moment to collect my bearings, I slid the katana from my obi, running my fingers along its burnished scabbard before kneeling to place it in the stand by the door.

It felt good to be here, in private, and away from the prying eyes. I began to shed my outer layers, much at ease, but then looked again at the open balcony, having a sudden, uncomfortable thought.

Even alone, I was never entirely unarmed, and I drew a kunai from my side, approaching the balcony like a cat hunts prey.

With my eyes, I searched the balcony, slowly stepping into the doorway. The kunai I held was cradled against my palm, and the muscles of my arm tensed, prepared to use it.

"Show yourself," I growled to the shadows, where my former vantage point had not allowed me to see. The sky was overcast, but the sun still shone beneath the cloud bank, bathing the castle in stark blades of darkness and light.

A lithe figure emerged from the other side of the balcony, draped in dark silk embroidered in golden leaves that flickered when they caught the light. She stepped slowly toward me, watching my every move, and I couldn't help it-I stared at her.

Nyah looked every inch a princess, with her long, brown hair twisted into a hapless braid that somehow made her all the more endearing. She was not of the same ilk as our women-who lowered their gaze in the presence of a man, and whose posture was always rigid, never relaxed. She stood to her full height, her gaze fixed upon mine. She didn't wear her hair like the women of Eblan, either. Gone were the combs and pins that would have otherwise held her locks restrained, and instead she wore her hair wild, like the weeds that floated atop the tide pools. There she was before me-some legendary creature-unhampered, unimprisoned, and in my personal quarters.

I pried my eyes away from her, trying to break her spell. In place of admiration, I strove for outrage.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at her, trying to steer her toward the door.

She frowned, disapproving of my rough handling. "They told me you had arrived, but-"

"You can't be here," I told her firmly, but she swept my hands from her shoulders once we were halfway across the room.

"You never told me you were the king's nephew," she protested, jabbing my chest with her finger, until I pushed her hand away.

"You never asked."

We stared at each other for a long moment, and finally she cast an appraising eye on my living space. "Stay here often?" she asked, flicking a bemused glance in my direction.

I narrowed my eyes, straightening. "Do you make it a habit of invading the personal quarters of others?" I retorted.

She crossed her arms. "To be honest, I had wondered why Kinomoto-sama sent me to find you in his place; but I admit, I had something I wanted to prove to you, and so this served me better."

"Prove what?" I inquired, finding the list of questions I had for her lengthening by the minute.

She tilted her head to the side, considering me. "That I do believe I've outlived your expectations," she replied.

I closed my eyes, sighing, and tried to find my balance. She was making it so difficult for me to think clearly. "You are the messenger," I realized. "The one the king sent to ask for me."

She smiled, relieved that I understood. "I was only asked to give you this," she said, handing me a small, rolled piece of parchment.

I glanced from Nyah to the note she had given me and discretely unfolded it, reading its contents.

As I read, my frown deepened. The king desired that I come to his private meeting chambers to discuss the progress of the training of his men in the north. But it was his final request that raised my concern-he requested I bring 'the girl' with me.

I folded the note and looked at Nyah, who was studying me closely, biting the inside of her lip.

"I don't know how you were given permission to enter this wing of the castle, or why the king's advisors trust you with his messages, but I don't like any of this," I informed her, trying to remind her of who she was-an outsider. "Nevertheless, you're to come with me. The king wishes to speak to us both."

She nodded absently, and stepped out into the hallway at my side. Only then did I realize the colors she was wearing. They were the provincial colors of the capital-black and gold. I stared for a moment at the garment itself, a yukata, not a kimono, and knew this was a sign of things to come. She was being groomed to become part of the king's retinue, this much was clear. The king was courting disaster and asking me to abet him. Nyah turned her face toward mine and caught me staring.

"Which way?" she asked, her lips quirked into a curious grin at my regard.

I gazed at her long and hard, this beautiful, indecipherable woman.

"Follow me," I finally said, taking her arm in mine, and leading her to where the king would be waiting.

I had missed much in the past three months, it had seemed. A former prisoner set loose among nobles-how could she act so unabashedly free? What game was the king playing, I wondered, and why had I suddenly become her keeper? I glanced at her from time to time as we walked through the castle's upper corridors. She was bewitching to be certain, but had her charm truly been so effective on the king?

I had come to the capital in hope of answers-but what I had received instead were questions.


End file.
